A Weekend Escape
by AngelEstrada
Summary: Danny is deeply concerned about McGarrett's overexertion on his first full week back to work, so he organizes a weekend getaway for the two of them... but will it go as planned? ((McDanno whump/bromance and H/C.))
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Danny is deeply concerned about McGarrett's overexertion on his first full week back to work, so he organizes a weekend getaway for the two of them... but will it go as planned? ((McDanno whump/bromance and H/C.))  
 **Author's Notes:** Neither Hawaii Five-0 nor its characters belong to me, and I do not own the rights to them (sadly). ;) I just like playing with them. ;) ...All ideas belong to Angel Estrada, so please don't plagerize! ...Oh yeah, and this is completely un-beta'd. :) ******* This fic is slightly out of character for McGarrett. I feel that his history would have a major impact on his mental state, especially the most recent event (Refer to the S6 finale!), so I'm writing what I'd expect from someone who's experienced such trauma, but know won't be seen on the show. Feedback (As well as Con-Crit) is very much welcomed. :) Enjoy! *******

* * *

It was Friday afternoon. Their first week back had been pretty demanding, and McGarrett's appearance made it evident that he just wasn't ready to be back at work yet.

Since Rachel had the kids for the weekend, Danny had excitedly booked a weekend for them out of town at a peaceful resort, and he was anxious to get away and relax... Doing it in a hospital bed or at home just wasn't cutting it. He knew Steve could use it more than either of them... but the trick was actually getting his partner to slow down and rest.

Steve was in his office, looking pretty run-down, which was to be expected since the man overexerted himself all week, and Danny's knuckles rapped on the door frame.

"You look like hell," Danny commented, deeply concerned as he noted Steve's ghostly white face and dark, sunken in eyes.

"I'm fine, Danny. What do you need?" McGarrett's tone of voice was one of annoyance and desperately needing rest, and Danny knew that he wasn't 'fine,' but he let McGarrett think he believed him.

"You, my friend, need to pack a bag."

McGarrett looked up in confusion as Danny continued.

"Rachel has the kids, and I'm treating you to a weekend away from... _this_."

McGarrett shook his head.

"I'm leaving here and going home."

"Yes," Danny began once more, "I figured you would... because, clearly, Steven, you cannot pack a bag here, as you do not have the necessities to do so."

Now, McGarrett was really becoming annoyed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as his patience with his partner was waning.

"Come on, babe," Danny teased, "it'll be fun!"

McGarrett's brow furrowed as he studied Danny.

"Since when is your idea of _fun_ spending time with _me_?"

Danny smirked, "since I gave you half of my liver and want to make sure you don't destroy it."

McGarrett huffed and rolled his eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Danny? No one forced you to give me your liver!"

"That is correct, Steven, but had I not given you my liver, we would not even be having this discussion right now, because you would be dead!"

If real life mimicked old cartoons, one would physically be able to see the smoke that was emanating from McGarrett's ears right now.

Finally changing the subject back to the original reason for Danny's visit to the Commander's office, he started talking about their weekend getaway once more.

"Your friend, Joe White, kindly got in touch with some acquaintances, and the plane is leaving in an hour."

" _You_ talked to Joe White?"

Danny momentarily looked away before responding.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't stutter, so, yes, that's what I said. I talked to Joe White."

McGarrett stood up from his desk, groaning inwardly, before closing his eyes as he placed a hand on his head for a few seconds, then threw his arms out in question.

"What right did you have to get in contact with him, Danny?"

Danny ignored his friend's eruption.

"So, are you coming or not? Because I really don't want to have to ask Max or Jerry to be my plus one for the next two days."

McGarrett rubbed his head and exhaled heavily.

"Fine" was his only response.

"Good," Danny answered, satisfied. "For once, _I'm_ driving. You're not in any condition to be behind the wheel."

...And for once, McGarrett didn't argue.

Danny led him out of The Palace, and to the Camaro, then headed to Steve's house so that McGarrett could grab what he needed... which didn't take very long. He packed light... and Danny's belongings were already in the trunk of his car.

McGarrett hadn't even seen a plane- let alone been in one- since the attack. As they approached the hangar, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling a sense of panic. It didn't take long for Danny to notice.

"You alright?" Danny questioned curiously.

McGarrett nodded as he looked out the passenger window, swallowing hard at the rising bile in the back of his throat, and Danny focused back on the road.

Five-0's fearless leader rested his head on the cool glass of the window, closing his eyes. He always enjoyed getting away, but right now, he just wanted to be home in bed... and he was silently cursing his partner for not allowing that to happen.

They pulled in, parking, and Joe was waiting outside the hangar, welcoming them with a glowing smile as they approached with their luggage.

"Good to see you on your feet, Commander," Joe smiled as they inched closer to him.

"I'd rather be off of them right now, but my partner here thinks that _this_ is a great idea."

Joe smiled. He knew Steve well enough to understand his viewpoints on things, but he had to agree with the smaller man on this one.

"I think it'd be good for you."

McGarrett rolled his eyes and followed his friend into the hangar. He stopped dead in his tracks when they entered and he spotted the plane. It was almost identical to the last one they'd been in... that ultimately almost ended his life.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but the increasing nausea he was experiencing made that nearly impossible.

"You boys ready to take off?"

McGarrett's face was extremely pale, and beads of sweat danced on his forehead.

Danny happily looked at Steve, awaiting his answer, before he realized that his partner wasn't okay.

"Steve?"

"Yeah..." McGarrett cleared his throat before setting his backpack on the ground. "I'm just gonna hit the head really quick."

He took off, and Danny and Joe exchanged worried glances. This was completely out of character for McGarrett, but he obviously needed more time to process what had happened.

McGarrett pushed the bathroom door open and quickly found himself making friends with the cold, white porcelain embedded in the floor of one of the stalls. It didn't take long for Danny to follow him in, concerned and curious. He heard the revolting sound of retching as he opened the door, and his heart sunk. This wasn't normal for McGarrett.

A few minutes later, Steve finally expunged himself from the stall, not noticing Danny as he quickly headed for the sink, rinsing his mouth. He wasn't there very long before another bout of nausea hit him, and he was back in the stall, heaving.

Another few minutes passed, and he finally felt well enough to come back out. He cleared his throat and spotted his partner this time. Danny's expression was filled with nothing but concern, and McGarrett read him like a book, knowing the next thing that would come out of Danny's mouth.

"I'm fine."

Danny's brow raised and he shook his head.

"You're fine? You're white as a ghost and just puked your guts out for the last ten minutes, and you think that's fine?"

"Side effect of the meds," McGarrett retorted as if nothing had even happened, "and it wasn't ten minutes."

"Okay," Danny began, "do you really think I'm that stupid, Steven? You've been on these same meds for- how long now?- and you're just now having side effects?" He paused for effect before continuing. "What's going on with you, huh?"

McGarrett dipped his head down, splashing cool water on his face and letting it trickle down into the basin like molasses as he gripped the sink white-knuckled, physically shaking. He swallowed hard and blew out a breath before grabbing some paper towels to dry off. His body was expunged of all forms of energy, and he felt like he was going to collapse from exhaustion at any moment, but he fought through it, not wanting his weaknesses to be illuminated to Danny.

"I told you I get carsick when I don't drive. Are we flying or what?"

Truth be told, as passionate as he was about flying, McGarrett was dreading being up in the air right now. His stomach did somersaults as he led Danny out of the bathroom, and Joe was still standing by. He plastered an artificial smile on his face.

"Bad piece of fish for lunch. I'm good," he told Joe, hoping the man wouldn't question him any further, even though he looked like death. "Let's get this thing off the ground!"

Danny shook his head with a heavy, annoyed sigh, as he followed closely behind Steve, and he locked eyes with Joe as Steve mustered up the courage to finally step onto the plane.

McGarrett's heart raced as he did so, but he was on it, and there was no turning back now.

The way the plane was set up, it was almost like an in-flight tourbus. It was very homey and comfortable, and lucky for McGarrett, there was a lone seat in the back, just waiting for him to take residence. A tiny smile appeared on his face as he sunk into it, and Danny took the seat diagonally from him.

"I don't believe a word of what you said," Danny commented as Joe and his co-pilot, the plane's owner, were getting ready for takeoff.

"I'm fine, Danny," Steve replied as he closed his eyes in a wishful attempt to make Danny disappear.

Danny ran a hand through his hair.

"There it is."

"There _what_ is?" Steve questioned.

"The F-word. You said it again. That's like, what, the tenth time today?"

McGarrett rubbed his face and buckled up as Joe started the engine.

"Can you just... not talk?" McGarrett asked as his head began to throb, hopeful, but doubtful.

Danny actually let it go for the time-being, seeing just how bad his partner was feeling. He stood up and headed towards the front of the plane, peeking through the curtain of the cockpit.

"We're good to go," Danny spoke quietly. "It's going to be tough. You know Steve. He's not going down without a fight."


	2. Chapter 2

*****AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks SO much for the wonderful reviews! You guys are my motivation to continue writing. I haven't 'fic'd' in a while, but the plotbunnies attacked and I HAD to write this story. I really hope you all continue enjoying it and like where I decide to take it. ;) Please continue to leave your thoughts in a review! Enjoy the second chapter! Much Love! -A.E.*****

* * *

After about two hours, give or take, they finally landed at their destination. The flight was fairly uneventful. McGarrett fell ill once more halfway through, and Danny stood by, comforting him as if he were the detective's child, but aside from that, everything else went without incident. The car ride to the resort was fairly short, and by the time they finally got there, McGarrett looked even worse. He blamed his lack of sleep, but quite frankly, it didn't take a genius to figure out that something more was going on.

As Danny checked in, McGarrett's exhausted form slumped against the wall of the hotel's lobby with his backpack flung over his left shoulder. Joe stood idly by, observing the two younger men. He wouldn't be staying for the weekend, but he would atleast wait until they were settled before leaving, and then Danny would have him on standby afterwards.

When Danny got the room keys, Steve weakly pushed himself off of the wall and followed him towards the elevator.

"Ninth floor," Danny exclaimed. "The ninth floor is also the top floor, which means that we won't have to hear elephants walking above us for the entire weekend!"

At this point, Steve really did manage to smile. It was faint, but it was there. He just wanted to get to a bed and sleep.

"You sure you're alright, babe?"

McGarrett forced a nod.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm...," he paused for a moment as he searched for a word to respond with other than 'fine', "'good.' I'm just really tired, Danny."

 _That_ was obvious.

Danny simply nodded in response just as a ding emanated from the elevator, alerting them that they'd reached their desired floor.

Their room was all the way down the hall, near the emergency exit, and it was fairly secluded from the other rooms. McGarrett hated the walk, which, to him, seemed like a mile, but he was pretty happy about the rest of it.

When they approached their room, Danny swiped one of the key cards and opened the door once it lit up in green.

McGarrett entered first, dropping his backpack next to the desk. Quickly, he kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, the blankets wrapped tightly around him as he began to shiver, and he closed his eyes, hoping to finally get some much needed rest.

"We've got dinner reservations at eight," Danny told him as he sat down on his own bed, brow furrowing at the hump that was visibly shaking under blankets on the bed adjacent to him.

"Not hungry," McGarrett slurred, his stomach turning at the thought of food.

Danny sighed and rubbed his eyes. He, too, was tired... but not like this. He figured he'd let his partner sleep for an hour before getting him up to go to dinner.

McGarrett did manage to fall asleep, and eventually, stop shaking, and Danny was relieved when both of these took place. As he waited, he sent some texts to Grace to see how she and Charlie were doing, and he familiarized himself with their new 'home' for the next two days. Steve, however, was snoring obnoxiously, making it impossible for Danny to actually relax, but he let him go, refusing to disturb him until he finally needed to.

Knowing how quickly Steve gets ready, Danny literally allowed a fifteen minute time span between waking his partner and getting to the restaurant.

Getting McGarrett to actually open his eyes was a chore, but eventually, he did, and Danny managed to talk him into getting ready.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, his fists weakly gripping the side as he blankly stared downward, trying to force himself to stand up.

He finally did, and just as Danny had properly calculated, it didn't take the Commander very long before he was ready to go... and they _still_ had time to spare.

McGarrett looked slightly better than he did, but he definitely still looked ill. Danny figured he just needed to get some food in him, since he knew his friend hadn't eaten all day.

They finally made their way to the restaurant, which was nice and fancy- and actually recommended by Lou Grover- next door to the hotel, and were led to a booth in the back. Danny made sure to dot all of his I's and cross all of his T's for the weekend, which included staying as far away from people as possible, even when reserving a spot for them to eat.

Steve appreciated this, and he followed Danny to the table, sitting directly across from him. The smell of food was nauseating to him, but even he figured he probably needed to eat something anyway, and hopefully, he'd start feeling better.

Being that they were on somewhat of a vacation, both men opted for steaks. They'd eaten enough seafood this week, as Kamekona pretty much shoved it down their throats to 'keep their strength up' upon their return to work, so they desperately needed to switch it up a bit.

The turnaround time for the dinners was pretty swift. It seemed like they'd just placed their orders, and their meals were arriving.

Danny nearly engulfed his juicy piece of meat, while McGarrett slowly took very small bites, which Danny was overly observant to.

"You really _aren't_ feeling well, are you, buddy?" Danny finally asked him, his mouth full of his own ribeye as he shoveled another forkful in behind it.

McGarrett gently set his fork down as he shook his head.

"I told you, Danny, I'm tired." He quickly turned his head as he began to lightly cough, and he cleared his throat before taking a sip of the water he'd ordered.

Danny sighed softly, almost feeling guilty for making Steve come along for the weekend... but instead, he continued to convince himself that his friend needed this.

McGarrett, not wanting Danny to think that anything else was wrong, forced a few more bites down his throat, and somehow managed to keep them down. Satisfied with the tiny amount that he'd consumed, and hoping that Danny would be, too, he set his fork down once more, just as Danny was also finishing up.

"Look, I know that you planned this weekend for us and everything, and I know it may not seem like it, but I really appreciate that. I do," McGarrett rubbed his still throbbing head, "but I really just need to sleep, Danny."

For once, Danny actually understood... and agreed.

Knowing Steve would never pull out his wallet, Danny was fully prepared to cover all meals this weekend, and he promptly paid at the front counter.

Just as they were about to exit, they heard commotion coming from elsewhere in the extravagant restaurant...

...and shots rang out.


	3. Chapter 3

*****AUTHOR'S NOTE:: You guys are SO awesome! I can't even begin to express how grateful I am for your wonderful reviews! Sorry this one took a little longer. Life got in the way and my muse decided to go unresponsive on me. lol. Hope you all enjoy the new chapter! Leave your reviews! Much Love, -A.E. :)*****

* * *

As gunfire reverberated through the restaurant, both men instinctively hit the ground, taking cover as best they could. Luckily, Steve and Danny were both carrying, and they instantly drew their weapons.

With adrenaline surging through him, McGarrett got a second wind and stealthily got back up, heading towards the sounds of the shots.

"What the hell are you doing?" Danny yelled out, but McGarrett was already back in the other part of the restaurant.

There were a few victims scattered on the ground with gunshot wounds to their extremities, and from what Steve could tell, they weren't life threatening, so that was a plus. He made a mental note to come back and assist... as soon as he located and detained the shooter, of course.

As Danny was rounding a corner to head into the kitchen in an attempt to meet back up with his partner, he was struck from the side, his firearm flying out of his hands and sliding across the classy, near-spotless tiles of the restaurant floor.

He scuffled with an assailant who towered over him, and put up a struggle to loosen the man's grip on the other firearm that was currently in the room. A shot rang out during the struggle, but luckily, it went through the ceiling, and Danny was still unscathed.

His face reddened and he breathed heavily as he continued to fight with all he had in him, but seconds later, Danny felt his right shoulder being twisted forcefully, in a way he knew it shouldn't ever be twisted, and that's when he heard another gunshot, loud popping and cracking, and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. He witnessed his attacker now lying next to him, exsanguinating.

"Danny!" McGarrett sprinted to his partner. "Danny, you alright?"

Danny was pretty much seeing stars right now. He came back to reality after about a minute, and he finally realized who was hovering over him.

"No," he groaned, "no, I'm not alright! What the hell took you so long?"

McGarrett smirked and Danny guarded his shoulder, trying to splint it with his unaffected arm. Steve inspected his friend's injury- and the fresh cuts and bruises that now took up residency on the blonde's face, as he simultaneously glanced around the restaurant.

"What took me so long? I don't know, Danny. I felt like going for a quick run first. What do you _think_ took me so long? He's dead, too, by the way." Danny glared at him before wincing, squeezing his eyes shut, clearly in agony. "That looks awful, buddy."

"Thinking it would be a good idea to spend a weekend with _you_ was awful," Danny retorted. McGarrett took no offense of Danny's usual ranting. "Help me up."

"In my defense, Danny, I do recall adamantly telling you I was going home tonight. You played the Max and Jerry card, which doesn't leave me with many options, because, unlike you, Daniel, I would never subject my friend to that sort of punishment."

"But you'll subject him to being maimed with bullets every day and dislocating his shoulder?"

"You're welcome for saving your life, Danny. Again."

"Saving my life? You didn't save my life, Steven! Whose liver is in whose body?"

"We're done!"

Agitated and incredibly annoyed, McGarrett glared at Danny and started walking away, shaking his head in frustration and leaving his partner to figure out how to help himself in the process.

It didn't take long for Danny to finally get up, and he found McGarrett outside with PD. Before the two headed back to their room, the local officers took their statements, and an ambulance crew patched Danny up a bit, creating a makeshift sling with cravats that would suffice until he stopped being stubborn enough to go to the hospital for a proper evaluation and treatment.

As McGarrett told his side of the story, the officers, who had momentarily been inside while McGarrett was checking on Danny, actually thanked Steve. The two men he took down had been on the run from police for a few weeks now, wreaking havoc with violence on the island. Steve nodded, shaking their hands, but dismissing any praise.

For a short time, he'd actually forgotten just how horrible he was feeling.

* * *

 *****...Five hours later...*****

"I-It's freezing," McGarrett commented as his teeth clattered, his body racked with chills as he shook uncontrollably, weakly grasping the blankets to pull them around him as tightly as he could. Danny offered soothing words of support, much like he often did with Grace when she was sick, and he stood by with the wastebasket, as Steve continued to have random bouts of vomiting.

"I-I think I'm dying, Danny," McGarrett spoke as he continued to shiver.

Danny ran a nervous hand through his hair as he observed his friend and tried to figure out what his next move should be.

He had no choice but to call Joe White.

As the phone rang, McGarrett moaned involuntarily as sweat poured from his forehead. Danny instinctively assessed his temperature with the back of his hand.

"You're burning up, buddy," he sighed softly, looking down at his pale but jaundiced friend.

When Joe finally answered, Danny let out a breath of relief.

"Joe, we've got a big problem," he began, carefully choosing his words as he briefly relayed to the older man what was going on.

"Hold on!"

Danny quickly threw the phone down as Steve began to cough, which led to more bile being disposed from his stomach, just as Danny brought the wastebasket under Steve's chin.

He held it there with the hand of his injured arm, his other hand gently resting on Steve's back for comfort, until his heaving finally stopped.

As he pulled it away, he spotted something on Steve's mouth and chin.

Blood.

Disgusted, but having no other option, he quickly assessed the contents of the wastebasket, and his eyes widened.

Danny immediately grabbed his phone.

"Joe, I- I don't know what to do!"

"What's going on, Danny?" Joe questioned, deeply concerned.

Danny breathed heavily as panic began to set in.

"Steve... He... He's vomiting blood!"

His eyes never left his ill partner, who was still shaking like a leaf under multiple blankets.

"Danny, I'm about ten minutes away. Figured I'd camp out for the weekend so I didn't have to fly back and forth. Just stay with him. I'm on my way!"

Danny listened intently before hanging up the phone and directing his full attention back to his ailing friend.

A few minutes passed and Danny's worry spiked even greater.

"Hang in there, buddy, alright? We're gonna get you some help!"

Steve didn't acknowledge his partner, but began to speak incoherently.

"N-Not leaving you!"

Danny's brow furrowed as McGarrett continued to blabber.

"Stay with me!"

"I'm right here, buddy. I'm right here!" Danny reassured him.

"F-Freddie! Freddie!"

"What?" Danny asked, completely confused.

"No! No!"

Danny tried his best to console his friend, but his attempts completely failed. Finally, a short time later, which seemed like an eternity to Danny, there was a knock on the door, and thankfully, it was Joe.

The blonde hurriedly opened it, stepping back as the older man entered, immediately heading directly for McGarrett.

"What's going on, son?" He asked Steve, who was entirely disoriented. His body was shivering, and when Joe assessed his temperature, he looked up at Danny. "We need to call an ambulance!"

"Tripler."

"What?"

"Steve, he- he won't go anywhere but Tripler."

Joe ran a hand over his face. He knew Steve would throw a fit if he was in his right frame of mind, but he also knew that their friend desperately needed medical attention... as soon as possible... and this left the two men standing in limbo.

The older man thought on their situation for a brief moment before finally coming up with the best possible solution.

"Let's get him to the nearest facility, and as soon as they get him stable, we'll get him transferred home. He needs attention _now_ , Danny."

Danny nodded in agreement and continued observing the Commander.

Steve continued weakly calling out for Freddie, and Danny stood there in complete confusion.

Joe moved in close to McGarrett now, whispering in his ear as he gently stroked his prodigy's dampened hair in an attempt to calm him. In all the years of knowing him, Joe had never seen Steve like this. He knew something wasn't right.

Especially when he heard him calling for Freddie.

Joe's heart was breaking. McGarrett was the reason Freddie stuck with the military... and McGarrett had witnessed his death in an undercover op years ago.

It took a while, but Danny finally remembered, and his eyes widened once more.

"Joe," he began, but the older man waved him off, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"I need you to call an ambulance right now, Danny," he responded softly.

Inside, Joe White was incredibly concerned for the man he thought of as his own son, but his outward appearance was cool and collected. Danny, on the other hand, not so much. It was obvious that he was terrified for his friend, though it wasn't unlike Danny to wear his heart on his sleeve and allow his emotions to be put on display for everyone to see.

He dialed the phone just as Steve's shivering form suddenly stopped, and his entire body went limp.

 _"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"_


	4. Chapter 4

*****AUTHOR'S NOTE:: I know I'm being repetitive, but you guys are absolutely AMAZING! I'm SO glad you're all enjoying this story so far! I've got quite a bit more in store for you, so please keep the reviews coming! ;) This one's a slightly longer chapter this time, with more McDanno dialogue, which should totally make up for my 2-ish-week hiatus. lol. I swear, the muse has a mind of its own. Haha. Hope you all like this one! Leave love in the review section! Thank you SO much for sticking with me and continuing to read! I appreciate you guys! Enjoy! -A.E. :)*****

* * *

The ambulance had responded to the hotel within minutes, and Steve never regained consciousness. It didn't take the medics long to decide that they'd be transporting him in on the red. He was breathing, which was a plus, but he was burning up, and once Danny had informed them of his friend's altered mental status, it drew cause for major concern.

They put a nonrebreather mask on him and established an I.V., immediately beginning to push fluids. He was extremely pale, yet jaundiced, and diaphoretic, and his body began shivering once more. He appeared dehydrated, which wouldn't be of surprise with his vomiting, but was never necessarily a _good_ or _normal_ thing. As they worked, Danny began rattling off what he knew of Steve's medical history, and current medications, and one of the paramedics quickly jotted it down on one of her gloves.

After approximately ten minutes, they got him loaded into the ambulance and transported him to the nearest hospital.

A team was standing by, awaiting their arrival. Being that he was unresponsive, they took all necessary precautions having all appropriate personnel ready and waiting, just incase.

When they rushed into the E.R., Steve finally started to come to. He was groggy and confused and he attempted to remove the oxygen mask from his face, which they promptly instructed him to leave on. He was so exhausted and overwhelmed that he had no energy left to even try to argue with them.

They quickly transferred him from the cot to the hospital bed without incident, and the doctor began his assessment. McGarrett's respirations were normal, but his color was extremely concerning. The paramedics made sure that the E.R. staff was made aware of his recent liver transplant, and the doctor began assessing Steve's abdomen and surrounding areas. He palpated the opposite side, and worked his way towards the surgical site, mindful of the incision, which was still in the process of healing. When the doctor reached his upper right quadrant, Steve groaned and quickly pulled away, guarding himself. A few seconds later, he started coughing, and a nurse quickly removed his mask, replacing it with a basin underneath his chin as he had another bout of hematemesis, and this time, he was aware of it. As they dabbed the blood from his face with a towel, he slowly leaned back and focused on his breathing. When he saw the blood, he knew he was sick, and something was severely wrong, but he had to stay calm, and he used his SEAL training to do so.

The doctor ordered blood tests, putting a rush on them, and as soon as he had results, he confirmed an infection. Steve's liver enzymes were extremely elevated, and after a few other tests, the doctor determined that McGarrett's body was rejecting Danny's liver.

Once the doctor diagnosed him, he put Steve on a medley of antibiotics, and had him transferred to the ICU for observation.

The combination of meds exhausted him even more now, and he slipped back into unconscious bliss, but this time, atleast, he was actually resting.

It seemed like an eternity before Danny and Joe were finally updated on their friend, and when the doctor finally approached them about two hours later, Danny literally jumped from his seat and hurried over to him. Joe wasn't far behind.

"Doc, how's he doing?"

"Well," the doctor began, "we have good news and bad news. The bad news is that his body is rejecting the new liver."

Danny's face paled as the news was delivered, and he leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. He mumbled " _I'm gonna kill him_ " to himself while shaking his head in disbelief.

"The good news, however," the doctor smiled between the two concerned men, "is that, I believe with some powerful antibiotics, his body should- and I stress- _with a large amount of rest_ \- reacquaint itself with the liver and begin functioning normally again."

"Yeah, well, _rest_ isn't a word in Steve's vocabulary," Danny chimed in.

"If he wants to survive, it's going to have to be introduced," the doctor replied honestly, needing to make it clear that McGarrett disobeying those orders would cause serious risk to his health, and possibly kill him.

Danny nodded understandingly, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay," he continued to nod, "can we see him?"

The doctor offered a warm smile as he responded.

"He's currently in the ICU. He was awake when he was brought in, but we've already started him on a very strong dosage of antibiotics and pain meds, and he's asleep right now. You're more than welcome to sit with him, but I can't guarantee when he'll wake up, and again, he really needs to rest."

Danny glanced at Joe before looking up at the doctor again, and blowing out a stressed breath of air. He reached out, offering his hand.

"Thanks, Doc."

The doctor smiled once more and shook both Danny's and Joe's hands.

"Of course. If you have any further questions or concerns, don't hesitate to ask me or any of the staff in the ICU."

Once they parted ways, Joe looked at Danny.

"Why don't you go up? I think I'm going to head to the cafeteria and grab some coffee."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd feel more comfortable seeing you than myself when he wakes up," Joe smirked. "He doesn't need a military presence adding more stress to the situation."

Danny finally broke his stoic form, and he smiled a little.

"Call me if you need me," Joe told him, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving him.

Danny ventured up to the ICU, a million thoughts running through his head as he stood in solitary in the elevator, which seemed to take its good old time changing floors.

When he reached his destination and the doors opened, he exhaled heavily and straightened his shirt before heading to the nurses' station, inquiring about McGarrett.

They pointed him in the direction of Steve's room, and when he entered, he stood there in shock for a moment, swallowing hard. He hadn't seen his friend look so small, so vulnerable, since the incident on the plane.

Quietly, he pulled a chair up next to Steve's bedside, and he sat there, observing the monitor as it beeped loudly, almost in a cadence with Steve's breathing, which was now assisted by a nasal cannula, a positive change from the last time Danny had seen him.

Danny sat there in silence for almost an hour before McGarrett's eyes began to slowly flutter open, and his eyes darted sluggishly around the tiny room, finally landing on his partner.

"Danny," he spoke softly, his voice barely audible.

"Hey, you're in the ICU. Just rest, okay?"

"What happened?"

"What happened? What happened is that you, Super SEAL, are stubborn as a mule and don't know how to listen to doctors' orders, and your body is rejecting my liver!"

Steve's brow furrowed momentarily before he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't you roll your eyes at me! What did I tell you? Did I not say that something bad would happen if you didn't listen to what the doctor said? I did, didn't I? Once again, I am right, and you are wrong!"

Steve slowly rubbed his throbbing head, trying to ignore Danny's typical rant, and weakly expressed the only thought taking residency in his mind right now.

"I'm tired, Danny."

"I know," Danny began, "as soon as we get the all-clear from the doc, we're going to get you home so you can rest."

McGarrett shook his head.

"That's... not what I meant."

"Huh?" Danny questioned with confusion.

"Danny, I don't... I don't know if I can do this job anymore." Steve's heart was beginning to shatter the second the words left his tongue.

Danny's brow furrowed and his eyes tried to meet his partner's, which were purposely looking away.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I mean... _This_..." McGarrett could feel a giant lump forming in this throat and he closed his eyes as he took a deep breath to gather himself before continuing. "When we got hit," McGarrett's eyes finally met Danny's now, "for the first time since putting this badge on..." He trailed off again, fighting his vulnerability, but also needing Danny to know exactly how he was feeling right now, "I was _scared_ , Danno."

Danny's eyes widened, and for once, he quietly sat there, simply listening.

"When I took those bullets, I thought that was it." A stray tear trickled down McGarrett's face, and he quickly batted it away, hoping Danny hadn't seen it, but the smaller man most definitely did. "I saw my life flash before my eyes. It was like I was standing next to my body, watching everything play out in slow motion. The last thing I remember is you telling me that I wasn't going to die... but the truth is, Danny... I had already convinced myself that you were wrong."

Danny sat there for a moment in complete shock. He'd never seen McGarrett in a state like this, so fragile and weak.

"Look, buddy, they've got you on a lot of pain meds right now, and I really don't think you're thinking straight. So, why don't we wait until you're feeling better to have this conversation, huh?"

"No," Steve answered softly, shaking his head. "I know exactly what I'm thinking, Danny, and I need you to know."

"So, what? Are you saying that's it? Six years ago, Steven, you forced me to join this ridiculous task force that hadn't even existed until your father died. I was perfectly content wearing my dress shirt and tie, which, by the way, never got dirty- or worse- until I started working with you, and flipping perps in interrogation rooms every day. I made myself a promise to protect this island for my daughter, this horrible, disgusting sandpit that she calls home..."

"Okay, first off, Danny, it's not a sandpit. I was on the front lines. Trust me, you _don't_ want to see an actual sandpit. Second, it's neither horrible nor disgusting."

Danny scoffed, continuing on with his big-long-run-on-sentence rant.

"Your opinion of this island is completely irrelevant, and as I was saying, I had absolutely no problems- _Zero_ problems, Steven- until you came along and disrupted my investigation six years ago because of your little fling with the governor! My life has been a living hell every day since!"

"I'm sorry," McGarrett responded dishonestly. He knew in his heart that Danny truly enjoyed working with this task force, but he was also tired of hearing him rant, so he tried to satisfy him.

"Do you know how many times I put my life on the line for you?"

"I'm sorry."

"You don't even realize how many times my daughter almost didn't have a father because of you!"

"Danny, I said I'm sorry! Alright?" Steve sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no point in arguing with his partner right now. He wouldn't win anyway.

Danny finally stopped ranting long enough to look down at his friend, noticing his distress.

"You okay?" He asked the Commander, concerned.

Steve began rubbing his temples now.

"No, Danny. I'm _not_ okay. My head is killing me, I'm nauseous, and I feel like I got hit by a bus."

"Well, thank God you didn't, because I don't have any more liver left to give you."

Steve opened his eyes and glared at the blonde.

"Seriously? I tell you how I'm feeling and _that's_ your response?" He shook his head and looked away, more annoyed than before. McGarrett couldn't deal with the topic of their livers any longer, so he figured he'd be nice and ask Danny how _he_ was feeling.

"How's the shoulder?"

Danny adjusted his new, actual sling a little, and shrugged his 'good' shoulder.

"It hurts. A lot. I have to schedule surgery when we get back home."

"Let me guess- Torn rotator?"

"Yeah," Danny nodded sadly, having gotten a quick observation and diagnosis by flashing his badge, while Steve was being treated in the E.R., "Charlie's been begging me to play catch with him. I promised him we'd play this weekend."

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve answered sympathetically.

Danny sighed heavily.

"I always find a way to mess things up, no matter what it is."

"That's not true. Take Amber... _Melissa_. Take Gracie. You haven't messed anything up with them. You just... have to be more optimistic, Danny."

McGarrett's eyes had fallen shut in the middle of his sentence, and he forced them open again.

"Okay, you- you need your rest."

"I'm good," Steve slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open as he pulled his blankets up around him.

"No, Steven, you are not, and _this_ time, I'm going to make sure you actually listen to what the doctor advises you to do and not do, okay? So, get some sleep."

"If you... promise to start being more positive," Steve paused, trying to stay awake long enough to finish his thought, "then I promise... to follow... orders." He managed to complete his sentence before he succumbed to the exhaustion once more.

"Deal."


End file.
